


Me On A Plate

by Teanonymous (Teahub)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teahub/pseuds/Teanonymous
Summary: Bitty has been selected by a local food blog to be featured in an article on up-and-coming home bakers. The catch? He has to devise a recipe that best represents who he is as a baker and as an individual. When Bitty starts over-complicating things and losing sleep, Jack has to remind him that sometimes it's best to go back to basics.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

On most occasions, Bitty found baking to be a good stress reliever. Most occasions, however, didn’t involve renowned food critics tasting his creations for a write-up in an acclaimed food blog. The pressure probably wasn’t helped by the fact that it was three in the morning and he was severely sleep deprived. It also didn’t help that  _ literally everything  _ was going wrong.

“No, no, no… it just isn’t right.” He tossed the spoon he had just licked in the sink in frustration. “These peaches just aren’t sweet enough. And lord knows I’d never be allowed to go back home if they knew I was using such poor quality fruit.”

Bitty scrambled to the pantry. He had to have a jar of peach preserves somewhere. It would be the perfect way to accentuate the natural sweetness of the fruit without having to add extra sugar. He knew for a fact that there was somewhere. And with a slip of the wrist, a jar of almond butter landed right on Bitty’s foot.

“ _ Oh, for the love of _ \--” he exclaimed before clapping his hand over his mouth.

The bedroom door down the hall opened. Great, now he’d disturbed Jack’s sleep. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

“Aw shucks, honey. Sorry to have stirred you awake.”

“Huh? Oh, no I just woke up to go to the bathroom.” Jack observed the kitchen. “Have you been baking all night?”

Bitty sighed. “I’m just so worried about this interview. I know it isn’t for another week, but I have to have my recipe down solid so I can replicate it. And gosh, I can’t seem to get things to work out. I’m supposed to make a representation of me on a plate, but if I can’t even get the filling right, I’m in for one heck of a time.”

“Bits, how long have you been awake?”

“Hmm, well if you don’t count the couple of minutes where I nodded off in the shower before dinner… about three days.”

“ _ Bittle. _ ” Jack gave him the look, the one he gives Bitty whenever he prattles on for too long. “You’re coming to bed right now.”

“But I’m still--”

“No buts, except for your butt getting into bed. Turn off the stove.”

Bitty crossed his arms, but eventually let out a resigned yawn. “I guess you’re right. Carry me, I don’t think I’ll make it much longer.”

“What happened to all the energy you just had?”

“I guess you just reminded me that I can’t just keep pushing myself. Especially not when such a strong, well-rested gentleman such as yourself is there to keep me in line.”

Jack chuckled. “You’re too precious for your own good. And for mine. Now let’s get you to bed.” He lifted Bitty into his arms and toted him to the bedroom, gently depositing him into the bed.

Bitty stared at the ceiling. “Sweetheart, do you think the critic will like my food? I’ve read some of her reviews online, and it’s starting to give me the jitters.”

“Bits, you know what I’m going to say. Why does it matter so much?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking for some validation, ‘sall.

“Validation?” Jack seemed puzzled. “Am I not enough?”

“No, you are. I guess I’m really just thinking about things too much.”

“What kind of things?”

“You know, just life in general.” Bitty turned to Jack. “But then I think about how lucky I am that I can spend time with you every now and then.”

“Especially since this bed is a lot nicer than the ones back at the Haus, eh?”

“More like especially since it’s always nicer to be with you than it is to sleep alone. You’re like a teddy bear, but with more muscles and a nice butt.”

Jack kissed Bitty on the forehead. “Alright, I think it might be time for you to get some shut-eye. We can talk in the morning.”

“Thanks for having my back.” Bitty yawned before curling up and drifting off to sleep.

“Anytime, Bitty. Anytime.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: From this point on, there will be spoilers for the end of the comic, so turn back if that's a problem

Bitty wasn’t big on sleeping in. There was too much to do in life for him to want to sleep it away. When he rose from Jack’s bed and saw that it was 11:35, he darted out of bed in a panic.

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? I was going to make breakfast!” exclaimed Bitty to Jack, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

“You seemed comfortable. And besides, we need to talk about you and this article you’re so stressed out about.”

The article. Boy, was Bitty not looking forward to this discussion. “Honey, I’d love to have this conversation--”

“Well, then let’s have it,” interrupted Jack. “Bits, you’re an amazing cook. Why is this so hard for you?”

A lump grew in Bitty’s throat. His face flushed in embarrassment. “It’s not the baking that’s the problem here. It’s the whole “me on a plate” thing. I just don’t know what to do to make sure I get across who I am in a single dish.”

Jack looked puzzled. “Why’s that?”

“There’s so much to me. I want to cover everything: my Georgia roots, my love of hockey, my sexuality, the love of my life. There's a lot of ground to cover, and I don’t even know where to start!”

“Can’t you just make a pie? You’re very good at making pies.”

“That’s too simple! This is for  _ The Mass Table Society _ . I’m sure they get pie submissions all the time. I’ve gotta dazzle them, make them remember the name Eric Bittle.”

A shower, brunch, and a playlist of upbeat songs to bake to were all Bitty needed to shift back into focus mode. He made a few tweaks to the peach compote he had been working on the night before, including the addition of a bit of ginger for some complexity. His mother’s pecan praline was the inspiration for a salted caramel pecan shortbread. Both were tasty in their own right, but somehow Bitty wasn’t impressed with how they tasted together.

“Hmm, I don’t think the ginger is harmonizing with the pecans as well as I thought it would. I don’t want to seem incoherent and disjointed. Golly, I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

Bitty consulted his notes. The pages were filled with sketches of elaborate confections, neatly written shopping lists, and more hearts than a pharmacy greeting card section before Valentine’s Day. Recipes from his mother, aunt, Moo-Maw, and Pinterest were color coded alongside a couple of his own original ideas. It was like a sacred text, a baker’s bible even.

He thumbed through the pages, landing on a recipe for strawberry shortcake that he adapted from his mother’s version. His secret: a splash of balsamic vinegar and a healthy glug of champagne added to his macerating liquid. He was saving this recipe for a rainy day, one possibly involving a ring and a particularly life-changing question, but decided maybe now was the time to pull out all the stops.

From biscuits to muffins to scones, quick breads were one of Bitty’s specialties, much like any other Southerner worth their salt. Every step was an intricate ritual. From the ratio of butter and shortening to the use of his favorite pastry cutter to form the dough, everything was as much of an art as it was a science. He even started shipping in his favorite brand of flour when he couldn’t find it up north.

His problem? He somehow forgot to buy more butter when he was at the store the other day. How could Bitty make such an oversight? He had cream in the fridge that he could technically use to make his own, but he needed that not only for his topping, but also for his dough.

It wasn’t long before Jack arrived with takeout bags in hand. “Hey, Bits. I know you’ve had it rough lately, so I brought home dinner.”

“Oh, hey darling.” Bitty was on the verge of tears, but he pulled himself together. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have cooked.”

“Between your interview, your blog, and the cookbook, I think you’ve done more than your fair share of cooking. Besides, I ordered your favorite. Remember that Italian restaurant we went to the night before our wedding?”  
“The one with the tiramisu the size of my head?”

“Yeah. I picked up some of that chicken parm you liked. I figured maybe we could have a date night, eh?”

“Oh, Jack. You are such a charmer. Who am I to turn down a date night?”

Jack smiled. “Great, I’ll grab some wine. Why don’t you set the table?”

“Sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit shorter, just so I could set up the next one. Next chapter should have a good chunk of fluff/comfort hopefully!

**Author's Note:**

> This kinda came out of nowhere. I'm planning on expanding on this if I get the time.
> 
> Feel free to follow me: teanonymous.tumblr.com


End file.
